


Bonus Features

by ChaoticBlades



Series: To The Ocean, Long Lost [2]
Category: Baten Kaitos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-08
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:14:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23592898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChaoticBlades/pseuds/ChaoticBlades
Summary: The author's note for To The Ocean, Long Lost. Includes:○ Scrapped chapter art/concept art○ Ciphers in full○ Trivia
Series: To The Ocean, Long Lost [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1698238





	1. Chapter 1

**TRANSLATIONS**

<Al Zhani>

{Al Fhard}

<{Kalas mixing up his grammar.}>

**CHAPTER 2**

He was just about to leave—

{Hurry! Hurry! I want him in the Empire before he can escape again!}

—when he heard something that chilled his blood.

<Yeah, yeah, I'm coming. I still think you're making a big deal out of nothing.>

He knew that voice. He knew _both_ those voices.

...

<I'm sorry for the things that were done to you—that we did to you! But this won't change any—>

Ayme kicked Larikush in the gut before he could finish his plead. <Shut it, geezer!>

Giacomo, who’d been the first to speak, ended the conversation with, {Enough! We still need to pay a visit to Cebalrai. I heard tell of a summoner who I believe is Kalas.}

Kalas froze. They were looking for him. 

...

Ayme laughed and ground Kalas’ hand into the ground with her heel. <It's almost a letdown!>

He chuckled in agreement. "Almost, but not quite.” Kneeling, he looked Kalas in the eye as he forcefully bound his hands in front of him with rope. “The Emperor will be most pleased to have you back, Kalas. As am I.”

...

{Ayme, I leave this to you!} The command issued, he dropped her and flew off with his prisoner.

Rather than look scared, she gave a vicious grin and drew a pair of pistol blades, spinning them expertly. With a cocky salute, she slotted them together to form a full-sized gunblade.

<Come get me, jackass!> she taunted.

 _Let’s see you laugh after_ this. Kalas ordered Ar to rip her limb from limb, watching in satisfaction as it moved faster than anyone could hope to dodge.

...

His aeon retreating to heal, Kalas was left wide open to the high kick aimed at his head.

<Sleep tight, kiddo.>

**CHAPTER 3**

“You mean all those times you kidnapped me? Yeah, I guess I would be all buddy-buddy with you guys if I knew what {quiet, brat} meant.” He stared at his hands, idly wishing his fingernails were long enough for him to pick disinterestedly.

* * *

<Look what the cat dragged in!>

The woman, clearly Al Zhani, looked the part of an assassin. She was certainly fast enough, pummeling Xelha with a seemingly endless barrage of nigh-unavoidable attacks. Punches, kicks, slashes, stabs, shots—what should have been an undisciplined jumble was a seamless, unpredictable martial art in her hands.

...

<Leaving so soon?> taunted the other woman, <And I thought moths were drawn to flames!" Laughing, she tore her knife free on the horizontal, spinning it around a finger. “Who are you anyway? Don't tell me you're here for Kalas, the Emperor's pet summoner?>

 _‘Kalas’? She must be involved in his capture!_ Xelha realized, clutching at the wound. She felt a brush of panic at how heavily she was bleeding and the unresponsiveness of her arm. 

...

<You got cau—>

“ _Wind Blow!_ ”

The spell blew her adversary into the burning wall, but otherwise had little effect on her. Left with no time to drink a potion, she willed her fraying focus to cast again. “ _Chr-Chronos… Blow!_ ”

The woman’s eyes widened. <Son of a—> She managed to duck away quick enough to evade the full effects of the magic, though it still clipped her in the shoulder, sending her spinning out of control. 

* * *

{Hey, you!}

He’d reached the top of the stairs, exited onto a veranda, and found a world of trouble.

“Oof!” he cried when the first of three guards tackled him. Although he knew it was pointless, he struggled until he was fully pinned to the ground.

{Could this be the arsonist?} asked the first. He sounded like the personification of an itchy trigger finger.

{Idiot, don't you recognize the Divine Child?} snapped the one who had him in a headlock.

{Wait, this is him?! Let him go right now!} He couldn’t understand them, but the first to attack him seemed to have a change of heart, shoving at the second.

The third put a stop to it with a single word. {Manacles!}

Kalas gave a half-hearted squirm but the chance had slipped away. His hands were cuffed.

{His mind was polluted by the traitors who gave him life,} she continued, {Let's put him on the ship—Larikush may be there but we can't risk losing him again.}

...

<My little starling!> Larikush pulled Kalas to his feet and into his arms, squeezing him with all his strength. “How I’ve missed you all these years.”

* * *

<Giacomo... watch this one....> The Al Zhani managed to gasp before swooning. The man’s eyes darkened. He slowly placed her on solid ground and strode to where Xelha was still struggling to lift herself up and catch her breath.

* * *

Giacomo, of course, was between them and freedom. {Larikush—! I might have known!} He made to hand a prone Ayme to the nearest peon, who was already burdened with a full-to-bursting bag that held, among other things, Kalas’ own ‘staff’.

**Chapter 4**

<To be.>

<To... be.>

Xelha would have loved to stay and learn, but it wouldn’t do to attract more suspicion on top of her vague homeland, lest someone decide she was working with the Empire of the Heretics. And so she turned away from the side-by-side Al Fhard and Al Zhani primers that Larikush had somehow found, just in time to see another passenger dart away.

* * *

<Chaotic Flames!>

Jarred awake, it was only by an instinctive call upon her wings that Xelha veered off the course that gravity commanded: directly off the edge of the island.

...

<You've gotten stupid in your old age, Larikush!> he taunted, zipping around on his winglets like an ice skater, <I expected this kind of idiocy from Kalas—maybe it's rubbed off on you!> Another fierce attack, this time a barrage of chronos-charged wallops, forced the others back. He flitted up to a nearby roof and squatted, flicking his whip mockingly.

<Go fuck an exhaust pipe, Folon!> Kalas yelled back as he sent a small whirlwind from the end of his blade. His accent bordered on atrocious.

<Like you even know what that means!> The man, identified as Folon, made a rude-looking gesture and flipped off the roof. 

* * *

With a movement too casual to be an uncommon occurrence, Larikush lightly rapped his knuckles atop Kalas’ head. “Be more considerate, <starling.> To her he said kindly, “We’ve decided to take advantage of the… preoccupation of our hosts to pursue the aeon located in the Shrine of the Winds.”

* * *

<No!> Larikush was pinned down before he could make a move, forced to watch his grandson be shoved to the ground.

{How fitting that the traitor be present for this,} said the officer, nostrils raising into a sneer, {Or was this your plan all along?} To Kalas he said, “Well? Go on. His Magnificence will want to be sure that the End Magnus is truly stored here.” His tone was bored, as if capturing a king, a traitor, and a {Divine Child} was a duty beneath him.

“Is this the honor of a great house of Alfard? Release us at once!”

Guillo’s shout drew his attention, which rapidly shifted from indifference to recognition to fury, ultimately settling on cunning. A miniscule gesture and Guillo was thrown forward by his captors, regaining his balance just as the officer slid his gun into position under his chin. From there, he jabbed upwards until Guillo was forced onto the tips of his toes.

{Little brother, I hope for your sake you came to deliver the Divine Child.} A smirk bloomed across his face before biting itself away. {Though I can see from your _face_ that isn't the case.}

“Release us,” Guillo repeated.

{'Us'? The traitor and the blood traitor? The duchess and the king? The Divine Child and... whatever urchin you've picked up?}

Xelha found herself the center of attention.

The officer continued. {They don't know your face, do they? They don't know you for the ill-bred whoreson that you are. I suppose it is the duty of blood to grant such a small final request.}

She was freed.

“Xelha,” called Larikush, “You have nothing to do with this, so you’re being let go. Leave now before anything happens to you.” Though his words encouraged surrender, there was a gleam in his eye that hailed her as the bearer of their triumph.

She inclined her head slowly, keeping eye contact the whole way. “I’m sorry to abandon you all like this, but it’s simply too much.” Backing away, she’d almost made it out when a bout of flames slammed into her from behind, sending her rolling in an attempt to put them out.

<You idiot!> Limping into the shrine came Folon, rather worse for wear and holding an obvious grudge for it. He barked (with no small amount of bloody spittle), <Whoever this girl is, she needs to be put down before she causes any more damage!>

Whatever threat he’d made, he didn’t seem in good enough shape to dispense it himself. However, it spurred the rest of the Al Fhard into action, forcing Xelha to flee to the rafters, hoping that her friends’ lives wouldn’t be used to blackmail her back down.

**CHAPTER 5**

“Ahhh…,” he moaned, curling an arm around his stomach as if to scoop out the coals within, “What did—what did you do to me?”

“Played nursemaid,” she stated in her usual blunt manner, {You can relax; those days have passed.}

For the time being, he decided to accept his situation, her presence, and the elixir so helpfully waiting for him on the table. Immediately feeling worlds better, he slowly edged himself upright, only to unbalance his bed. Which, as it turned out, was actually a large hammock. Fortunately for Kalas and his myriad injuries, Lady Death caught him before he could hit the ground and gently laid him upright against the pillows.

“You still haven’t learned Al Fhard. {It would serve you right if I spoke nothing but Al Fhard to you until you figure it out.}

**CHAPTER 6**

<Gosling dung!> snarled Larikush from the helm. Though he handled it expertly, it was clear that the differences between machina engines and a linerfish was proving to have less than negligible impact on his steering capabilities.

* * *

Dredging up energy she didn’t really have, she caught him on the winds and pulled with all her might. But her strength was rapidly failing and she could only watch, helpless, as her magic did little but stagger his fall onto the island below.

<The steering mechanism has failed!>

For once less than serene, Melodia snapped, “In Yevonese, please!”

“The ground!” shouted Guillo.

They all looked below, only to see the Sky.

Then forest.

A distant city.

<Protectaga Wall! Auto-Reviaga Stream!>

When had Larikush emerged?

* * *

" _What's going on?!_ " Sirius shoved Odette out of the way and pulled Rheong closer by a grip just below their right shoulder, making a strangled noise at what he saw.

Their mumblings became slightly louder, slightly faster.

<Please, oh please, O Yevon, deliver me—I tried to follow you, your teachings, I tried. I swear on the path of the summoner, on the Fourteen Nations of Alfard, on the Divine Child himself, may he never claim his birthright....>

They continued even as both themself and Xelha were escorted to the Geography Section, where they were caged in by what few bookcases were light enough for the villagers to push.

Xelha lay where she was left, distantly listening to the Al Zhani’s fervent begging, and yearned for sleep to pull her under.

* * *

“It is exactly as I said, Xelha!” he exclaimed, shifting his head but slightly in her direction, “This monster is the embodiment of why I left the Empire!”

{Save the dramatics, soldier,} she replied, even-toned and commanding, {I've left that name behind, just as you've stolen the name 'Guillo'.}

He flinched but remained steady. <All that you have left behind is the uncountable dead of Azha.>

Whatever he’d said gave her pause, as she stared him down in narrow-eyed silence. “Who are you?”

* * *

“The boy became a summoner,” she said without preamble.

He nodded, oddly regretful. “Perhaps it was fate.”

{And what of the Emperor?}

<It seems Georg never told him. And so it falls to me. If he chooses to continue on this path after he knows everything... we brought him into the life of a victim. I have no right to take this decision from him.>

{You have no right to make that decision for the millions of lives it will impact.}

* * *

<Ready for a rematch, moth?> sneered Ayme from above, grinding her heel into the wound from their first encounter.

Xelha could only choke out a pained cry, writhing like a pinned bug. Her arm instantly lost most of its feeling below the nerve, but the awkward angle made it difficult to do anything about it. In desperation, she summoned her wings and beat them as fast as she could.

Ayme merely grabbed hold of one of them and yanked at it until her prey stilled. <I could pull these out right now.> Her voice went down an octave. <Would you like that?>

She lifted her foot and slammed it back down. The motion was agony to both Xelha’s wing and her shoulder.

She continued. <To feel our pain? You lovey-dovey types get off on that, right?>

The pressure on Xelha’s wing eased as Ayme leaned down to whisper in her ear, <But we know what you really are under that pretty face and those fragile wings—you're an owl, like I used to be.>

Larikush’s voice came from beyond her sightline. <I would have guessed 'vulture' myself.>

Ayme froze. Then, moving her hands so that one gripped Xelha’s throat and the other dug into her shoulder, she uncoiled herself and rose, turning to face him. <Doctor. Long time no see.> The condescension was palpable in every drawled word.

He looked nervous in a way Xelha had never seen before. <I will gladly—>

<—'take her place'? That's too easy for the likes of you.> A cruel smirk crawled onto her face, tangible at the narrow distance between their cheeks. <Hmmmm, I wonder how you could convince me to let this troublemaker go....>

His eyes flicked to Xelha’s.

He remained silent.

Ayme pressed her apparent advantage. <Ohh, so sorry. Looks like Doc here values a war criminal over a cute thing like you.>

...

Footsteps pounded in from all directions, the sound overwhelming in light of her pain.

Folon was the first to speak, sidling up alongside them. <What do we have here? The daughter-in-law?>

<Wouldn't that be something? Little baby Kalas, all grown up!> Ayme laughed raucously.

“‘Kalas’?” echoed Xelha, “Where is he? Have you taken him?”

Her captor glanced at Folon. <What is she saying?>

<She thinks we have Kalas,> was his nonchalant reply. He leaned in close and, maintaining unblinking eye contact with Xelha, said, <Speaking of, why not take our favorite doctor up on his offer? He'd make better bait for our socially-impaired honorary nephew. Maybe we can get some info on Georg too.>

...

And there, rounding the corner in a sprint with the golden glint of weapon in hand, was Guillo.

“You cannot win this fight.”

At first she thought he was talking to them.

“Joke?” snorted Folon. His grin faded when Guillo’s arm did not so much as waver.

“I am afraid not. Please, you must escape while you have the chance.”

“You….” Strangely enough, he sounded more resigned than angry at the betrayal. In fact, he didn’t sound angry at all. Nor did Ayme when he whispered a translation.

<Red?> she started, <Heh. You look out for yourself, got it?> She disengaged from her halted bout with Savyna and joined Folon, giving Guillo a lazy salute. “See not day.”

<Think about what we're offering. As far as we're concerned, you're kith.>

And then they were gone.

**Chapter 7**

“Enemy defeated,” snapped Savyna, stepping to block Xelha’s view of a doll hand with strangely-articulated fingers, “Let’s move on.”

<So cold! Did you get your name from the mass graves or the winds of hell?>

The voice came from behind Xelha.

The attack came from behind Savyna.

Larikush bellowed, <Protect Wall!>

The spell settled just in time to save her life from a barrage of metal projectiles.

“Ayme! Folon!” yelled Guillo, wheeling to be back-to-back with Savyna, <So it was you who turned Cid's machina against us!>

The enemy sharpshooter sauntered into view. <Kid, you realize that's Lady Death behind you?>

Whatever Ayme said had Guillo lurching back towards the edge of the group as if burned.

<Don't be a fool!> Larikush snapped at him, wearily readying his staff, <A tortured past does not excuse the sins of the present.> He stared intently into Ayme’s eyes. <Learn that lesson from me, boy, if you can't stomach it from Lady Death.>

Guillo hesitated, then eased back to where he’d been.

The rest of the group arranged themselves to better cover each others’ backs. In front of Xelha and Melodia, Folon was exiting the brush with a what-can-you-do shrug.

All was still.

Then, in accordance to some unobserved signal, the two began circling them in unison. Seeking a weak link.

Or, failing that, creating one.

<Siding with the Mad Bitch of Azha?> sneered Folon.

<And good old Doc Larikush,> added Ayme, <How many times did you bring us back from the brink of death so your pal Georg could do it all over again?>

Larikush began, <We did you wrong—>

<I'm going to enjoy killing you. Over and over 'til even your stockpile can't save you.>

Guillo was the one to respond. <Ayme, you know the Empire will only continue to escalate this war once the Emperor obtains the Divine Child. Do what you know is right; I promise I will aid you!>

She gazed over Melodia’s shoulder at him with a look of pity. <...Careful your heart doesn't bleed out there, son of Azha.>

**CHAPTER 8**

“— _failed_ her, _failed_ my queen!”

<Shh, hush, sweet one.>

His accursed curiosity was piqued. _‘Failed [her] queen’... has to be Corellia. But that was definitely Al Zhani I just heard._

* * *

When he managed to sit upright, he was greeted by Rheong looming above, a ball of light roiling between their raised arms. No, not light—molten earth, compacting further and further upon itself.

“Mages, to me!” they cried, <METEORAGE STREAM!>

All thoughts of pursuing vengeance fled as the orb of lava, rivalling Sin’s eye in size, was blasted towards the beast.

**CHAPTER 9**

When the insufferable drama queen still hadn’t shown his lousy face, Kalas cursed and shouted, {Up deck, Giacomo!}

In a clinking of armor, he knew he’d hit paydirt.

“Tsk, tsk, that grammar is atrocious, Kalas, to say nothing of your accent,” rumbled Giacomo, moseying out of a room in the hold, {What have you been teaching him, Larikush?}

<You know full well how difficult it is to procure primers outside of the Empire,> replied Larikush dryly.

In typical Giacomo fashion, he responded by tossing a single magnus towards Larikush, who caught it effortlessly. “Charity, then.”

<Mind your manners, boy.>

{Perhaps you should mind your tongue, old man.}

Without waiting for a response from either ‘family member’, the commander was already setting his sights on Guillo. “You, boy. I must offer thanks on behalf of my associates.”

* * *

_Clompclompclomp._

They arrived.

{It's Rambari-son and the waif! And they've picked up some freak in a mask!}

To her left, Gibari cracked his knuckles.

To her right, Mizuti was lazily swaying from side to side.

{The dragoon won't be able to jump in here—we have a chance! Don't fear death, soldiers; think of the bounty money! We could rebuild the next village over without running out!}

Whatever had been said, the less eager of their enemies abruptly became animated. One even lunged forward with their saber.

* * *

For once Kalas didn’t deny it. He didn’t need the attention.

_Keep talking, jackass._

{Sir!} lisped the soldier he’d attacked, the word whistling through newly acquired tooth gaps.

Kalas cursed. He’d pegged him for a glass jaw.

{The waif in pink, she's here!}

{Well, I would certainly hope so. A guardian should have a certain level of work ethic.}

**CHAPTER 9**

Larikush hummed, first in agreement, then in a lullaby tune, all the more sweet for its throatiness.

Xelha rose just as he began singing and tiptoed to the guest bedding Georg had earlier laid out for her. Though she could still hear every word, it gave the illusion of the privacy the grieving family so deserved.

_ <Across the dunes of Azha> _

_ <Where the sun creeps 'way grain by grain> _

_ <A mother wolf awakens> _

_ <To sing the aria of her pain> _

_ <Her little has left her> _

_ <To hunt in the Farplane> _

<I do not know id someday soon>

<I'll join her in her song>

<Food is scarce in Azha>

<The sky-wick burns too long>

<The night is cold as flameice>

<So many things could go wrong>

<But 'til then I'm beside you>

<Through the cold and fiends and heat>

<And the whip-like winds of Azha>

<Our last caplin's final bleat>

<My arms are here to hold you>

<'Til I suckle from death's teat?

**CHAPTER 10**

With but that single footstep, Kalas snapped awake.

<Something's not right here.>

_ Ayme. And where there’s an Ayme…. _

{You're referring to the entirely too convenient circumstances in which we've caught up to our prey.}

_...and there’s the man himself. _ Kalas didn’t waste time wondering how they’d gotten into the city undetected.

<Please! He's a slippery one, but there's no way the docs would let him play bait like this.> As Folon made his presence known, he walked boldly up to Kalas and patted whatever it was he’d fallen asleep against. <If you ask me, he snuck out to get some canoodling in with the moth.>

Deep inside him, Kalas felt the Malperciac aeons stir.

{Ah, yes, the girl,} Giacomo drawled, armor clinking closer, {Take her as well—I have some questions that are long overdue....}

* * *

He barely avoided a winglet-powered kick to the head.

<Daydreaming when you should be fighting?> taunted Ayme, footwork so fast he could barely keep up, <Giacomo's already mushy enough—don't go making him a grandfather on us, kid!>

After a roundhouse nearly got him in the ear, Kalas desperately pushed off from the ground. He rose just high enough to give his groundward swing a little power, setting off a hot blast of power when he hit his target.

<Ha! Lost your edge, Kalas?> she crowed, unscathed.

* * *

Ayme, who was in the lead, called them to a halt. <Wait. It picked up again. Strong this time.>

<You sure? All I can smell is mildew and dung,> said Folon, pinching his nose.

* * *

“A pity the same can’t be said of your Al Fhard,” Giacomo cut in, grabbing him by the elbow and escorting him none-too-gently back the way they’d come, {We can deal with her later; His Excellency's mood sours by the minute.}

* * *

<Hey. Brat.>

He ignored her.

<You going to mope all day? Come on, where's that fire of yours? It's no fun if you're just going to sit there.>

He ripped himself away from her grip, losing a chunk of ray-moo fur in the process. He couldn’t find it in himself to care.

<Ugh. Let me know when you're ready to stop being a moron.>

* * *

He glared at the map of Alfard.

<Quit it, kid—this is stupid and you know it.>

For the first time he could remember, Kalas looked at Folon— _ really _ looked—and saw the exhaustion screaming from every pore of his chalk-white skin.

...

“What do you want?” he demanded.

Folon raised an eyebrow impossibly high.

“Folon… Al Fhard… <buy> Kalas?” he tried, well aware that it was a nonsense phrase and not caring.

Folon rolled his eyes, muttering, <How does a guy with so much meat in his head find room for aeons?> He summoned his bladed whip, carelessly tossing Kalas the magnus holding the Sword of the Heavens. <You better make this interesting, Kalas!>

* * *

By the time Ayme showed up to relieve Folon, Kalas, having physically vented to the point of numbness, had long since dove headfirst into the primers.

Surveying the myriad scrapes on both the walls and their skin, she sighed. <Leaving me out of the fun?>

<By all means, next time he needs a walk, he's yours,> Folon said back, sarcasm on full blast, <Don't forget to pick up his shit.>

* * *

“Ayme.”

<What?>

<I bad you. I bad Folon.>

<You also 'bad' at Al Fhard. ...But you good Kalas.> A pause. A grimace. “Thank. Try.”

* * *

“Kalas,” sniffed Emperor Geldoblame, looking more displeased than usual to see him, {I ordered that he be dressed in a manner befitting the role his emperor has granted him and this is how you present him to me?}

Though Geldoblame’s eyes never left Kalas, it was Giacomo who answered. “Unfortunately, there was no time, Your Excellency. We were delayed in Mira by the White Flame.”

* * *

Kalas took advantage of the lack of space to headbutt Geldoblame right in his stupid face.

Geldoblame lurched back to paw at his bleeding nose. {Damn crow!}

“ _ Say it again! _ ” he roared, biting Giacomo’s hand when it moved to silence him, “Say it again and I’ll kill you, you bastard! You don’t have the right—!” One of the carriage cushions was shoved against his face.

Once assured that Giacomo had control of the situation, Geldoblame sneered, {Not even a raven—he's a rabid mutt. Take him out of my sight until we reach Azha.}

He felt two pairs of arms take over for Giacomo and drag him out of the carriage, him screaming at their emperor all the way.

<Knock it off before someone gets killed, dumbass,> hissed Folon into his left ear.

Which meant Ayme was on the right.

“I. Don’t. Understand. You,” Kalas gritted back.

“Stupid. Head. Be. Shut. Up.” Folon punctuated each word with an elbow jab.

...

Once settled, he returned their stares.  _ Come to think of it,  _ he noted, scanning them for their usual tics,  _ they look just as happy not to be there as me. And I think I know why…. _

Aloud he said, “Geldoblame, Azha?”

Their eyes turned steely.

_ Got it in one. _

<That slug—> growled Ayme, cutting herself off at Folon’s warning look, “You, Lyude?”

“Lyude?” he echoed.

_ That was that soldier guy, right? The one Savyna’s obsessed with? _ No one had sat him down and told him directly, but every so often they would reference him in passing. He’d more-or-less picked up the story thread.  _ Well, they are Al Zhani. _

<If Lyude for Azha dead?> he tried.

The two winced.

{I bad}—no, no, <I bad.>

Exchanging a glance with her companion, Ayme gave an awkward laugh and slipped a magnus out of her deck holster, tossing it towards him.

It was yet another primer.

* * *

It appeared Geldoblame was giving some sort of address, as he waved towards Kalas with a cry of, {Gaze upon the savior with which your magnanimous emperor has provided you: the Divine Child, returned from his decade of imprisonment at the hands of jealous dissidents!}

It was a wonder any of the Al Zhani could cheer, they were so forcefully weeping.

<The Divine Child!> sobbed a woman in the front, tears cutting tracks through the sand encrusting her too-defined cheeks, <We can hope again!>

Another joined in, face just as wet but smiling with a crazed kind of hope, <Cleanse our sins, Divine Child!>

<Divine Child!>

<Divine Child!>

_ Shut up! _ he wanted to yell,  _ You people just want to use me, just like everyone else! _ But their despairing smiles resonated with him. Their raw-throated cries matched every frustration he’d ever stifled. Compassion and resentment warred in his heart as the volume swelled—

**CHAPTER 11**

The silence that followed brought Larikush’s strangled chastisement of Georg to the foreground.

<—that fool boy should have known—should have been told !—what the Emoeror wanted of him! It was not I who created the 'Divine Child'! You should have... I should have....> He trailed off, seemingly to forestall any sobs escaping alongside his words.

Georg wrapped his arms around him and gently pet his hair. <Sh, sh.>

* * *

<Hey! You there, in the hood!>

An Al Zhani pushed their way through the crowd to give Guillo a sheet of paper. Whatever was on it, it had him reeling back.

<What... how...,> he gasped.

<At daybreak, out of nowhere, there was a raid!> they hissed, urgency screaming from every pore, <They're gone now, but they gave us these!> They shook the paper for emphasis.

Guillo extended his arms and the two grasped each other by the elbows, kissing the other’s cheeks. <Thank you, friend...! I can only imagine the risks—!>

While they were disentangling themselves, Savyna whispered, “The Empire knows we’re here. We need to move.”

* * *

Guillo grasped the bottom of his headpiece and lifted it just enough to slip the lily inside. Once it was positioned over his mouth area, he stammered, {Wherever I go, whenever I come/Here I will always find a home.}

_ Click! _

Guillo pushed open the door, ignoring Savyna’s sharp look.

...

A bullet hit Guillo in his goggles.

They all had their weapons out before the ricochet hit the floor.

From past the dining room entrance, a woman with a large gun stepped into the antechamber with them. Though she bore the heavy wrinkles of a grandmatron, her yet vibrant red hair and ability to lift the indubitably heavy machina suggested premature aging.

<Next time I—> The weapon dropped from her hands when she saw the damage she’d done. <My boy?! Soil below, is that you?!>

“Almarde,” murmured Guillo, seemingly stunned, “Almarde!”

<It is you!> She rushed forward, heedless of the heavily armed intruders, and swept him up into her arms. <My dear boy, back from the dead!>

He embraced back as if the woman was life itself. <Almarde, I missed you more than I can ever say! I am so sorry I left you all alone!> He was openly weeping, sobs breaking down every syllable.

Almarde was no better, her tears quickly soaking into his hood. <I would spend every day for the rest of my life alone of it meant you were alive and well, my sweet Lyude!>

* * *

One recovered quickly enough to grab her by— _ of course _ —her injured arm.

{The Blushing Waif!}

Xelha twisted, planted her feet on his chest, and pushed off, drawing her wand in the same motion.

* * *

<I hear there was quite the fuss in the capital the other day,> the merchant said conversationally to Xelha.

Using a conveniently timed bump in the road to think, she finally gave up and simply replied, <Yes.>

_ I hope that was right _ , she worried,  _ I don’t think another caravan is likely to pass by. _

It seemed he was satisfied with her answer. At the very least, he laughed, gave a conspiratorial wink, and boomed, <A gal of few words! You'll fit in just fine, Miss Waif.>

In the corner, Savyna found a way to pull her hood even further over her face.

Xelha glanced towards Lyude, hoping to find him in better spirits. Instead, she was greeted by a goat leering out from under the hood of his massive overcoat.

_..._

<Is Azha far?> she asked the merchant once she’d worked up the gumption.

He laughed, hopefully not at her accent. <No, no, I kept the prancers moving last night. You'll be able to meet meet up with your 'hot stud' by dusk at latest.> He was winking again.

Lyude made a choking noise.

_ Is he making fun of me after all? _

When she couldn’t recall how to say ‘um’ in Al Zhani, she hummed and nodded. Surely that was an acceptable response?

Apparently it was, for he gave her a friendly shove and went back to guiding the prancers.

Larikush leaned in and whispered, “By dusk.”

She nodded her thanks.

As he was settling back, he paused, then called, <Canis, the water.>

<Good catch!> The merchant drew out a water magnus, as he’d done every hour or so, and let everyone refresh themselves on it (at least, as much refreshment as one could find in tepid water). <I was beginning to think all you all would be history if I hadn't happened along.>

Then, with seemingly no landmark in sight, he steered the caravan to the left.

* * *

“We’re here,” Larikush murmured, faintly clasping her good shoulder. 

To the merchant he gave the same greeting that Lyude had to the informant on the Low Wharves. <Safe travels, friend. I hear western Nihal is lovely this time of year.>

<Noted,> the merchant replied, <May the sands be kind.>

<Likewise.>

They were hastily shooed out of the wagon, and just in time: an imperial soldier appeared out of the night to inspect the goods, as well as shine a joltshroom lamp in the faces of the workers.

“Be careful—it seems the Emperor has anticipated our arrival.” Larikush nodded, not at the inspection, but at a row of wanted posters plastered across a nearby signpost.

**_{WANTED:}_ **

**_{The Blushing Waif}_ **

_ {A Yevonite as powerful as she is pink! If seen, report to the nearest soldier.} _

The image was of Xelha herself. The beauty with which it had been painted was, frankly, offensive, as it lovingly rendered her as some sort of evil seductress. The artist had taken creative liberties not only concerning her decolletage, but also with how flirtatiously she posed while casting.

**_{WANTED:}_ **

**_{Mad Alpha Savyna}_ **

_ {Formerly of the Mad Wolf Unit, the captain has gone feral. If seen, report to the nearest soldier.} _

Savyna, meanwhile, was portrayed with relative accuracy. The major point of contention was her face: it was snarling and beastlike with blood smeared across her jaw and teeth. Although part of the problem may have lain in the extensive defacement and graffiti, to the extent that the image was barely visible.

**_{WANTED:}_ **

**_{The Blaze Alchemist}_ **

_ {Don't be fooled by his white mage attire—this traitor to Alfard can make dynamite out of nearly anything. If seen, report to the nearest soldier.} _

The Larikush in the poster was cackling, fists full of explosives and eyes full of madness. Rather than be depicted in the traditional robes of a white mage, the brushstrokes seemed to suggest that the jagged red border had been painted on white fabric via fingers dipped in blood.

**_{WANTED:}_ **

**_{The Malignant Mummer}_ **

_ {A disciple of the traitorous Lyude Lyuvard, this assassin hides behind a mummer's farce. If seen, report to the nearest soldier.} _

Lyude’s was the worst yet. Apparently discontent with the simplicity of his Guillo persona, the artist had added a truly unnecessary number of spikes, belts, and zippers. That, or perhaps they had gotten bored, for his maneuverable lens had been turned into a pair of horns. For some reason, he was slapping a tambourine against his hip.

**_{WANTED:}_ **

**_{The Sanguine Spirit}_ **

_ {This ghastly girl may seem cute, but the only blush she applies is the blood of her enemies! If seen, report to the nearest soldier. _

Melodia was posed with her hands daintily pressed together at shoulder height, head tilted winsomely to the side. Above an exaggerated, sinister grin, one eye was closed. The other was cracked open and staring at the viewer with eyes of much darker hue than in reality. Their color was likely chosen to emphasize the blood smeared across her cheeks like makeup.

**_[WANTED:}_ **

**_{The Kid of the Mask}_ **

_ {Assumed to be the child of the serial killer known as the Masked Maneater, this brat is an accomplice to the Divine Child's abductors. If seen, report to the nearest soldier.} _

The final poster was of Mizuti, a close-up of their mask. The eyes extended a hand’s width out from the face and were hollow, lit from within. The mouth was enlarged as well, doing away with the tongue in favor of a seemingly dislocated jaw gaping towards an unseen victim. Massive teeth lined both sides, echoed atop the mask by a series of vaguely feather-shaped protrusions.

* * *

Larikush shakily moved to be in position to greet the soldiers when they arrived. “This is not good.”

{You there!} the nearest soldier barked, heading straight for Xelha, {What are you doing, hiding in the shadows? It's past curfew!}

Larikush moved to intercept. <Ah, my niece and I just returned from Minta—>

_ THUNK~RAK! _

The soldier had ever-so-casually swung her arm so that the body of her gun struck him in the jaw and sent him sprawling. Distraction dealt with, she continued, {I was asking the girl!}”

Xelha forgot every word she’d ever known of Al Fhard.

{Are you deaf?!}

She glanced helplessly down at Larikush, who showed no signs of getting up. Was the dark splotch next to his head blood, or just a shadow growing from the rapidly fading light? She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t tell and she couldn’t  _ understand. _

“Xelha!” Savyna hissed in warning.

Spine going rigid, she choked down the sensation of sawdust filling her mouth. <I—I—>

_ Think of a word, think of a word—! _

<Home!> she cried.

Any attention they’d somehow avoided instantly snapped onto her.

Just as she knew it had been the wrong thing to say, so too she was aware she had to stay the course lest their cover be blown.

And so, biting her lip, she continued, <I c-came... from Mintaka.... My job... is gone. So I came home...?>

The onlookers relaxed. Somewhat.

The soldier’s upper lip scrunched in disdain. {Tch, I'll bet. It's hard enough finding work without you layabouts stealing out jobs.} Ticking her visor up with a finger, she glared down her nose at Xelha. {So, what about the rest of this freakshow? They also your 'uncles'?}

The words were spat too fast for her follow beyond that she’d been asked another question.

<Yes...?> she guessed, hoping against all hope that she would be lucky again.

The soldier stared at her incredulously.

She’d guessed wrong.

{No backtalk from the likes of you!} This time, the soldier didn’t bother with her gun. She merely raised a fist and swung—

—only for Savyna to catch it and flip her onto the ground.

And lose her hood in the process.

Screams filled the air.

<It's her, it's her!>

<You bitch, you killed my mother!>

Savyna was saying something to her, but the terror and fury of the Al Zhani drowned her out.

_ <Haven't you taken enough?!> _

_ <I'll kill you, I'LL KILL YOU—!> _

Xelha realized, horrified, that they were facing a vengeful mob.

...

<Protectara Wall!>

...

“Should you be—” she started.

He waved her concerns briskly away. “No, but we haven’t the time.” His gaze swung sharply—to the extent it was able, given his unfocused eyes—to Savyna’s carefully blank face. <And the same goes for you. If that's how you truly feel, then use your life to affect positive change in theirs.>

Savyna said nothing, but gave a very small nod.

* * *

Dazedly, Xelha grasped at a handhold, crying out in pain when her fingers were scalded. Again she fell, flapping weakly to slow her descent. A pair of thick arms caught and lowered her to the ground, which she was shocked to find belonging to an alarmed Giacomo.

{Ayme, Folon, secure the boy—our plans have changed,> he said, gripping her good arm just loosely enough not to cause her pain.

* * *

** The Emperor almost seemed more disgusted with his devotion than the betrayal. Cocking his head back, he shouted at the aeon overhead, {Pitiful raven, the time has come to prove of use to me! My Sky-born Mer-Prince, glut yourself on the bounty of Malpercio!} **

**CHAPTER** **12**

R grinned slyly.

And promptly sashayed out of the room.

Her voice was muffled but still audible. {Yeah, I'd get any goodbyes out of the way—the _Highwind's_ almost ready to roll.}

In walked Almarde.

...

She gripped back just as hard before taking a step away, hands gripping his shoulders with urgency. “You’ll have a narrow window to slip away.”

<Come with us,> he whispered, tears welling.

**CHAPTER 14**

{Don't mess with Lady Death!}

As she spun out of the way, she felt the spray from Savyna’s attack and sent frost galloping along it. The spear of water froze into a much deadlier spear of ice.

It wasn’t nearly enough to beat the disciple of a god, but it bought them some time. For them to have even the slightest chance of success, they would need to be completely in sync.

<Flank left!> cried Larikush, taking his position to the right, <Triangulate!>

Xelha slid under the burst of ice shards indicating that Kalas was already loose again. By the time she’d rolled to her feet, holy magic was hugging her form.

“ _ Holiaga Flare! _ ”

“Is that all you got?!” Kalas snapped, flying up to avoid her spell.

<Holiaga Flare!>

**CHAPTER 18**

Kalas didn’t dare meet his eyes. “Um, hi, Papa,” he said to the floor instead, “I’m sor—”

Any hope of finishing his apology fled with his breath. His grandpapa was clutching him to his breast with more strength than was probably healthy for his old bones.

“Neer kea!” he scolded, raspy and fierce, <Don't you ever do that to me again! I thought I'd lost you, my precious starling, and thos time for good!> He rocked them back and forth and back and forth while Lyude watched with a misty smile.

In truth, the motion was making him slightly nauseous, but he couldn’t bear to disappoint Papa. Especially after all that he’d put him through. So he hugged back just as tight, whispering, <Sad for you. Sad— _ sorry _ . I'm sorry, Papa.>

* * *

But, rather than a bullet, he was met with a gaggle of dirty children, small in both stature and gut.

<The Divine Child! He's back, he's back!> they chanted, bony fingers attaching to whatever hold they could find in his clothes, <Are you going to save us, Your Lordship?>

_ Save you? That’s hysterical—I couldn’t even save one of you! _

Fee’s voice echoing in the corner of his mind, he swallowed hard and stammered, <I'm... not a good man. I can't... safe?... save any one —>

Lyude appeared at his side, interrupting with, <What Lord Kalas means to say is—>

The children lept back at the sight of his imperial uniform. Despite their obvious fear, none so much as gasped in surprise.

<—wait!> he cried, pointing to his eyes. It appeared to have the intended effect, calming them further than the arrival of their supposed savior. <We are the same, see?>

Still they hesitated. Then, a brave little girl eased forward, weight distributed to bolt at the first sign of trouble. A few others dared to follow her example, each emboldening the next, until Lyude and Kalas were surrounded by a solemn ring of children.

Lyude bowed before their jurors as if they were the most esteemed gentry rather than bedraggled urchins. <Lord Kalas is still recovering from battling Sin. We need to speak with the Emperor, if you can point us in the right direction.>

Kalas hadn’t totally followed what was said, but he didn’t need words to understand the array of annoyed and disgusted faces at the mention of their <emperor>. And so he did what he did best and rolled his eyes as exaggeratedly as he could, whining, <Emperor Fuckface....> He turned towards his grandfather’s aggravated groan. “Hey, Papa, how do I say ‘bailed on me’ in Al Zhani?”

He could hear the his teeth protesting their owner’s refusal to answer.

...

By the time the pack of delinquents-in-the-making had led them as close as they dared to the grandest hovel in Azha, the kids had amassed a small fortune of medicine, blankets, and, predictably for a group containing both an angler and Xelha, fish guts. They scampered off with their prizes, save for the ringleader.

After staring for a moment, she muttered, “Kalas.”

“Yeah,” he replied, holding his hand out for her to shake. Those two words might as well have been a full-on heart-to-heart.

“Piscella.”

He smiled. <Give them hell, Piscella.>

Piscella grinned and tromped off after her friends.

* * *

** The guard outside his cell jabbed backwards through the wrought iron grid with her rifle. {No talking!} **

* * *

{Aw, is the big, bad waif scaring the poor wittle guards~?}

It took a moment for her to realize that the deep voice had  _ not _ come from one of the guards. That moment was enough for her mysterious benefactor to fell the ones who’d gathered in front of her with a storm of well-aimed knives. She caught a glimpse of a leg, which just as quickly disappeared into a whirlwind of motion.

Xelha gasped as white magic flooded her abused system.

Her view of the one-sided battle was blocked by a crowd of Al Zhani workmen.

Almost as soon as it had begun, the fight was over, and she and her remaining friends had been freed.

<Are you K.E.S.U?> asked Xelha.

* * *

{How could we have known? How could we have foreseen? That he we named the Divine Child was, in fact, his older brother, corrupted by jealousy! For the crime of fratricide alone, this false Child would deserve his fate, but it was he who summoned the monsters who now plague this land! Gaze upon him, my countrymen--this miserable, treacherous crow!}

The crowd was in uproar as the blindfold was torn from Kalas’ face. By the time his eyes had adjusted to the bright sun of the Nihal Desert, the commander from the Shrine of the Winds—Skeeve? He was pretty sure it was Skeeve—had moved on to his next victim.

{Yes, Kalas was the dark angel who blotted out the sun, but he was only half of a pair! Lyude, formerly of House Lyuvard, was his accomplice in these deeds, with hands as red as the blood he stole from our father!}

Lyude’s eyes were even redder than usual. His tears seemed to spark nothing more than further disdain from his brother.

{Worshiping their carnage is Lady Death, the Rabid Bitch of Azha! She, too, betrayed our glorious empire, infatuated as she is with he with whom I am ashamed to share blood!}

Savyna’s blindfold was removed quickly enough that he got to watch her face shift from abject boredom to flat out contempt at whatever dumbassery Skeeve was spewing about her. Based on Lyude’s sour expression, it had been on a whole other level. He was really regretting his lack of studiousness when it came to Al Fhard; if they managed to survive, he’d do so having missed some Grade A teasing material.

{And completing this insidious quartet is the esteemed Doctor Larikush, the terrorist who stole the true Divine Child away from his people!}

...

_ Showtime, _ he thought.

And then he yawned. Loudly.

As expected, Skeeve gave his best glare, or so Kalas assumed—it was overshadowed, so to speak, by that of the sun.

Smiling his very most obnoxious smile, Kalas turned to Savyna—who, having been the victim of his scheming for the majority of their acquaintanceship, was the most likely to recognize that it was  _ planned, purposeful _ obnoxiousness—and said, “So, how long do these things usually take? I’m hungry.”

Something like despair clouded her eyes. It was almost flattering.

“What do you say—cheeseburgers? Geldo’s complexion put me in the mood for something greasy,” he blithely pressed.

She blinked narrowed eyes. “...Right.”

Laughing, Kalas risked a peek at his audience; probably-K.E.S.U. continued to skulk, the crowd was confused, and Skeeve was offended. All in all, it was good work.

But he could do better than  _ good _ .

{Cheese meat bread! And pickled!} he exclaimed. While the Al Fhard word for ‘cheeseburger’ had been a top priority for him in his studies….

{'Cheeseburger'.}

...it was far more entertaining to witness stone-cold Lady Death saying ‘cheeseburger’ with as much solemnity as she did anything else. As an added bonus, he saw the corner of her mouth twitch.

The crowd was murmuring again, the only discernible word being, of course, {'cheeseburger'}.

Face scrunching in annoyance, Skeeve snapped to the headsman, “Take sword against the halfbreed on your block—the other deserves not so much as the axe.”

The headsman, who must have understood Yevonese, grunted and readied the requested blade.

_ Shit, shit, shit. _ New plan. _ What would Melodia do in this situation? _

{My father won't like this!} Kalas shouted. It was the first thing he could think of, and so, now obligated to continue lest he lose their hard-won attention, he swallowed down his sour grapes and put on his cattiest attitude. “So unless you want  _ Commander Giacomo _ breathing down your neck, I’d watch it!”

<Of all the fool things—> muttered Papa.

<I don't suppose the commander will be joining us... for cheeseburgers?> added Lyude. It was good timing on his part, for it called Skeeve’s attention just in time to miss a suspiciously Gibari-shaped figure pass through a gap in the crowd.

<{Father will be joining,}> Kalas agreed, fairly certain he was making some kind of syntax error, if only due to Skeeve’s look of utter affront, {He makes cheeseburgers. He has a cheeseburger dress.}

“Do you mean {apron}?”

The word was unfamiliar. More to the point, Giacomo in a ‘cheeseburger dress’ was a funnier mental image. “Nah.”

{Enough!} Fed up with the headsman’s bewildered hesitance, Skeeve drew his gun and trained it on his brother. {You're pathetic, Lyude—I can't believe one so gormless—!}

“Shut  _ up! _ ” Kalas cut in, “You want to know why I made Lyude one of my guardians?!”

...

“Because between him and me, I didn’t stand a chance; at every turn, he was smarter and faster and better connected than me.”

That, and the entire group was caught up in a series of interlocking  _ I-know-you-know _ conspiracies, to the point it grew too convoluted for him or Melodia to follow. But the officer didn’t need to know that.

Kalas smirked, his ire giving it a vicious edge. “They may not look it, but I only have the best of the best as my guardians. You wouldn’t have even made the cut, Skeeve.”

{'Skeeve'?! I am Skeed, son of Lyuvann, son of House Lyuvard!}

_ Oh yeah, it  _ was _ ‘Skeed’. Right. How could I forget Skeed. _

{That maggot is well-matched to you—neither deserving of the names bestowed!}

Skeeve probably would have kept ranting, had there not been a swell of chronos-tinged mana to send him tumbling face-first into a sand dune.

...

Rather than address the small crowd of foes to his right, Fadroh lifted his arms to those frozen in his presence and boomed, {My countrymen! The almighty Malpercio has seen fit to grant you a boon: though many of you have decried Him in your ignorance, He will welcome as kin all who repent—}

{Do not be deceived by the promises of a counterfeit god!} Lyude cried, planting himself directly next to Fadroh, {Even now, the creature wearing the general's face has his army poised for slaughter!}“

Imperials and rebels alike were moths wavering between two flames: comforting copper and vivacious vermilion. As Kalas himself well knew, Lyude’s tattered reputation was irrelevant when his passion swelled more than his even-tempered demeanor could contain; it was harder  _ not _ to get sucked into his idealism. On the other hand, which was the safer gamble: the decorated thoroughbred or the traitorous darkhorse? If he were Fadroh, he’d’ve long since spun his involvement as a way of getting Alfard under Malpercio’s protection.

Far from losing his cool, Fadroh actually seemed pleased at having competition. Smirking, he purred, {In this man's words, Malpercio hears the will of the commons.}

The pronouncement was met with immediate uproar from the people below.

{Alfard and all her children are unworthy of the name of 'Brethren'!}

The waiting army poured down the dunes from all directions, descending upon the terrified humans. The very small number of imperials with heartwings took to the skies, though almost all lacked the necessary stamina to flee. The rest plummeted to their doom, or else were hunted by the fiends possessing of their own means of flight.

**CHAPTER 19**

“I—I—Savyna!” stuttered ‘the Great Lyude’, appealing to the amused princess at Kalas’ side, “Surely you—I mean, I beg your pardon, but it’s hardly appropriate—”

Folon cut in, <Aw, give it a rest, babe—a princess for a ma-in-law could come in handy!>

<Just think of all the goodies she owes us for what she did to Azha,> Ayme added. She called over to Kalas, “Nice work, dumb-ox!”

“It’s ‘dumbass’,” he replied, kinship swelling at their matching grins of spite, <{Lifetime of being dick had to come in handy some point, yeah?}>

She stared back in what appeared to be awe.

<Aw, little Kalas finally hit the books and his Al Fhard is as bad as ever~!>

Not awe then.

<{Better than your Yevonese!}> he groused back.

To his shock, it was Xelha who responded with, <It really isn't.>

...

Lyude closed his eyes, subtle tension disrupting the otherwise peaceful image. “...It’s been two—no, three now—years since I opposed Operation Sweep. Even had my siblings been inclined to recognize me as their own, I revoked my name as a son of House Lyuvard. I… would not even begin to know how to describe how difficult it is, to embrace my father’s legacy once more….”

Slipping to his side, Ayme crooked his face towards her with a curled finger under his chin. <Hey, if you don't want to do this, I won't let anyone force you.>

<I could not possibly be so selfish!> he said, his typical righteous zeal strangled into a volume fit for conversation, <It's just... I just....>

Giacomo’s raspy voice cut over whatever indignant reply Folon had opened his mouth to spew. {'Don't wish to be in conflict with your blood'? Not an uncommon sentiment.} His eyes flicked to Kalas, darting away when he realized he’d been caught.

Head lowered ‘til all that was visible was his hair, Lyude replied mournfully, <Conflict has been our ken ever since I inherited the face and name of the founder... I, the bastard son, honored above the true heir....> His shoulders tensed from the efforts of his clasped hands.

* * *

Wild-eyed and out of breath, the guard choked, {Her—Her Ladyship—!}

“How mean of you to spoil the surprise~♥~”

* * *

{Qui shaking in your boots!} he yelled, staring down the senate, K.E.S.U, and the third section in turn. Perhaps in shock that he’d managed a sentence, none interrupted him. {So she's got a god on her side—who cares?!}

Dead silence. Even Melodia kept her thoughts to herself, though she was probably waiting for him to put his foot in his mouth.

<{Here I fought—I thought _ —}> _ The foreign word was adamant that it wouldn’t be spoken. “Here I thought you people were proud that the Empire doesn’t believe in divine ordination like some other islands I could mention! Now you’re just going to let her call the shots?”

...

<Hey, old man!> she screamed at the other fight. Not waiting for a response, she somersaulted under the blur of a suddenly much bigger flail head, coming up besides Savyna and Giacomo. She thrust a tin into their hands before flipping away, crying, <Quick, use this!>

...

An armored boot halted his tumble, its matching hand hoisting him to his feet. {Keep your wits about you, boy.} And then Giacomo was making his ponderous way back into the fray.

“Right back at you, whatever that was,” he muttered back.

...

As he maneuvered around a series of rapid swings, Savyna passed him from the opposite direction. Their eyes met ever-so-briefly.

{On your eleven,} she barked, {Xelha has a plan.}

...

“Al Fhard, Al Zhani,” he began, buying time for the adrenaline to clear out of his thinking space, {My name is Kalas... the Divine Child. That was some fight, huh?} He gave the most carefree laugh he was capable of and hoped that they were all too shaken to notice.

Most of those gathered chuckled nervously in response.

_ Tough crowd, but I’ve had worse. _

{Good thing there was a lot of people here—it might have gotten ugly.} He kept his grin light as he planned the next sentence. {Still could. Don't like it, but it's true.}

Alfard  _ really _ must have been hurting for a charismatic presence, for they actually seemed to be listening to him. Or rather, their Divine Child. Those too far away to hear his unamplified voice crowded closer, or else gossipped with those in front of them.

{It would be a....} He paused, ostensibly for drama but really because he could not for the life of him remember the word. {...shame if Alfard wasn't one Alfard the next time. And if Malpercio isn't dead, there will be a next time.}

Before he could launch into the next agonizing segment of his half-assed speech, screams broke out from all sides.

...

So of course Geldoblame had to open his mouth.

{Citizens of Alfard, our mighty empire is safe this day!}

Cheers erupted from masses too relieved to mind the speaker.

{Not on account of foreign hands, no—though they will doubtless make claims to such effect!—but by the blood and sweat of her foremost son!}j

Kalas took one look at the body language of the Al Fhard he trusted and placed a hand on his deck holster.

{In a manner of speaking, I must thank our foes, for their audacity in striking has displayed, with far more eloquence than mere words ever could, the result of the summit's deliberations!}

Now the senators were looking pale. He couldn’t decide if that was a good or bad sign.

Geldoblame’s arms stretched out unto the heavens, belting at impressive volume, {All hair he whose love of country led to three years of scorn, that his infiltration of the enemy remain hidden from their eyes: Praetor Lyude, son of Lyuvann, son of House Lyuvard, Angel of the Commons and Emperor Ascending!}

Al Fhard of every walk of life cheered and screamed and cried and Kalas had scarcely realized he understood those last few words before Geldoblame made his way over with the fakest smile he’d ever seen.

{Play your part, brat,} he spat under his breath as he placed an arm around Lyude’s waist.

**CHAPTER 20**

<Think, boy, think!>

<Time is of the essence and there is still much to do,> Lyude argued, taking Papa by the hands, <If not for your support, I shudder to think what would have become of me; I beg of you that you allow me to return the favor in this small way, friend.>

Behind them, Geldoblame lurked on the stairs into Corellia’s palace, scowling as he had every time Al Zhani passed his successor's lips.

* * *

<Breathe, boy, breathe!>

“P-Papa…?” It came out as a warble.

<That's it, come back to me.>

Not Papa—the voice was too rough. “Gramps…?”

A snort. “I hope not.”

Kalas’ eyes shot open. “Al Zhani? That’s a new one.”

**CHAPTER 21**

<I'm coming in hot, boys!>

Apparently the White Dragon understood Al Zhani, for she ducked in perfect concert with the Goldoba’s artillery-heavy approach.

* * *

“Press the advantage!” Savyna cried, but it was too late—they were forced to scatter as his loss of balance sent the beam wide, knocking out three walls and half of the ceiling.

<Doctor, just as Xelha and I...!>

<PROTECTAGA WALL!>

The voices of his Lyude and his grandpapa cut through the noisy crumbling. Channeling his magic through Lyude’s alchemical conduit, the spell was doubled.

<The speed with which Malpercio heals...! I don't condone his rebirth, but as a doctor it's breathtaking to witness,>“ said Papa, stroking his beard.

“Just as long as you don’t go dissecting it in front of us, Doc,” Gibari laughed. As the first boulder-sized fragments hit the barrier, he became serious again. “So, any idea how we can outpace this healing of his?”

As if to punctuate the question, creaking followed by a loud snap sounded from Malpercio’s direction. A glance revealed that the rod of ice had been broken and forced out by the regrowing leg muscles.

<Not even the gods of old were able to figure that out,> Lyude replied, half—or more—to himself. Despite his words, his grip tightened around his gun and he stared determinedly, even angrily, at the Wicked God.

**EPILOGUE**

<Lyude! Long time no see!> he cried with a jaunty wave. He was genuinely excited to see his old guardian, in a way that had seemed impossible back on Diadem.

The emperor waved off his bodyguards’ automatic aggression, pulling Kalas into a hug as soon as he landed. Cheeks kissed, he drew back, beaming up at him. <Kalas! It's been too long! You really must come visit—Mother has been getting cross with how little I can tell her about you well-being.>

“‘Kurr-kuasb’?” Kalas searched his memory for the word, “Sorry, don’t know that one yet.”

...

Finally, hand coming to rest bracingly on the kid’s back, he sidled into her view and said, <So, did I miss the wedding?>

<I wish!> she groaned. She seemed to sense Lyude’s reproving stare and added, <Wait, babe, I just meant that I want to get on with it already!>

<The senate has been resistant to Al Zhani consorts,> Lyude explained, a mischievous twinkling to his eyes as he played along, <If not for Geldoblame and Melodia—>

<Wait, what?! Since when is there an 'and' with those two?!> He didn’t know if that info was more juicy or terrifying.

The emperor merely chuckled. <Ah, they have been corresponding since almost the Descent—first as statesmen, then in reminiscence of her departed parents. They have developed quite the friendship of their own.>

_ Well, they have their love of melodrama in common, I’ll give them that. _ He was kind of glad that Melodia’s contact with the outside world was limited while she underwent treatment—he’d hate to see what they would get up to in person.  _ On second thought, I’m glad this is happening now and not in the Sky. They would probably have started a coup or something. _

Aloud he said, <Huh. At least they're putting their scheming to good use, I guess.> He had faith in Melodia, at least, to solve the crisis. Which was why turned back to Ayme with a smirk. <Well, I was going to wait until Folon was here too, but while we're on the subject....>

Lyude, looking embarrassed, tried to wave him off like he had his guards. <Kalas, it's not really necessary....>

Ayme interjected, <You tried to kill Lyude. Twice. You don't get to give the shovel talk.> It was the most serious he’d ever seen her. In fact, she almost looked like she wanted to give the aforementioned talk to  _ him _ .

It was convincing enough that he was comfortable leaving it be. <How about a 'congrats'?>

<That's not what you were—> she protested, “Hey, wait, we’ve been speaking…!” Wide-eyed, she gaped at him before huffing a laugh. “Well, I guess I don’t have room to stand either. Thanks, Kalas.”

She even sounded sincere.

A long, low whistle came from atop a signpost ahead. It was Folon, crouching like a gargoyle, who had for some reason decided to go shirtless in the cold. It couldn’t have been out of comfort, for his teeth were chattering so hard that his snarky greeting became unintelligible.

Not so for Kalas. “You want to put a shirt on? You’re turning blue.”

“Tch, never heard that one before,” he shot back, turning to the others, “It’s their fault anyway, leaving me to waste away in a cold, lonely bed.”

His antics, it seemed, were commonplace, if the way the guards automatically averted their eyes was any indication. Kalas should have followed their example, as Folon gave a nasty grin and cupped his chest. “Look at these diamonds—half the imperial treasury right there!”

“Folon….” Lyude’s sigh was long-suffering.

Ayme took a more direct approach, throwing a snowman’s eye directly at a quarter of the treasury.

He fell off his perch, complaining the whole way. <My nipple! How could you?!> He brushed unhappily at the coal dust, only succeeding at smearing it further into the crags. <Ugh, now Lyude's never going to lick it again!>

Lyude was speechless and red.

Kalas chimed in, <That's more than I ever needed to know, thanks.>

“You’re just jealous!” he shot back. However, he accepted the burgundy walking coat that Lyude slipped off his own shoulders. “So, finally decided to show up? And just in time for your party.”

...

<I can't believe you...,> she muttered, then turned to the snickering Folon, <And what are you laughing at?>

“Kalas… and Femur!” he cackled, the kid giggling along, “The dynamic, god-slaying duo!”

<'She isn't mine'... you really are a dumbass,> Ayme continued to rant under her breath.

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Kalas snapped, scooping the baby back from the blue hyena, “She needs a name.”

<Finally, he gets it.>

* * *

<Thanks for the food,> he said to his hosts, speaking Al Zhani solely because it would annoy them even more than Yevonese. While his Al Fhard wasn’t as good, he spoke it skillfully enough that he had no real excuse not to use it.

{Our pleasure is to serve our brother's honorable guest,} replied Skeed tartly. The rounded vowels tugged the rope of his scars. What was left of his nose moved with every word.

* * *

It took a moment for Kalas to put a name to the face that greeted him at the gates of Greater Mintaka: Piscella, the leader of Azha’s street urchins.

<You forgot me!> she playfully accused, punching his arm.

Rubbing at his ‘wound’, he groaned, <Give me a break! Last time I saw you, you were covered in mud!> He thought about teasing her for her current dirtiness, but he wasn’t sure that one brief meeting made them close enough, no matter how instant their connection.

Besides which, it was clear that outside of the dusty construction site, she was bathing regularly. Her hair was visibly green, a cheerful golden shade to match the ochre of her skin. The matching iris crisply lined the curl of her pupil. 

<So, what are you doing this side of Nihal?> he asked instead.

She raised and shook the empty pail in her other hand. Water droplets caught in the sun as they fell to the grit below. <Mister Angel doesn't let kids help with the big stuff, so we run errands.>

<But why Mintaka?> he pressed. He wasn’t sure why it bothered him so much. Maybe his grandfathers’ influence?

<Azha got fixed first,> she shrugged, swinging her arms to clasp behind her. In the process, the pail came dangerously close to sending a small lizard flying, to its hissed discontent. <Plus, we can't let Lyulu get pushed around by a bunch of upper-crust shitters—we Al Zhani stick together!> She nudged him with her elbow and twirled back into the fray.

“Heh. Fair enough,” he murmured to himself, checking the knot of the sling. Once he was sure it would hold, he shielded his eyes from the airborne grit and plunged into the slapdash cityscape.

...

Following Piscella’s periodic beckoning, he came upon the scene of Emperor Lyude, nary a sign of his rank save a few extra lapel pins, being set upon by a horde of children. He was no cleaner than anyone else at the worksite and even carried a lathe hammer, though he set it down before embracing the children. On a nearby sawhorse sat a spike maul, sledgehammer, tray of nails of varying sizes, canteen, and cloth-bound box.

_ Can’t get a more iconic composition than this. _ He took the picture: the group kneeling in the bottom right, the sawhorse to the left, and the rebuilding efforts the backdrop.

<Off!>

At Piscella’s sharp command, the younger kids scampered off, shrieking happily.

<Be careful!> Lyude called after them, face scrunched up with worry.

<Aw, come on—we know our way around these kinds of places,> she whined, plopping down on the end of the sawhorse.

<Be that as it may—Kalas!> Hurriedly brushing off the worst of the mess on his clothes, he met Kalas with open arms and a cheek that tasted faintly of oil. <It's wonderful to see you again!> He drew back a little. <You and...?>

“Piscella!” the girl pouted, arms crossing.

Lyude tilted his head but kept up the encouraging smile. <Oh, so you named her after our young friend here?>

<Huh?>

<Piscella, meet the Kid,> said Kalas, prying the cranky baby out of her spot. While the older girl cooed, he reluctantly met his friend’s disappointment. <I swear I've been thinking! I just can't think of anything that fits.>

Lyude nodded, like it was something he’d expected. <If you change your mind about staying the night, Id be more than happy to help you brainstorm.>

<You just want to get our of paperwork,> Kalas grinned, slyly jostling him.

<What? No, I most certainly do not—> He broke off when he realized he was being teased, even returning the gesture.

Laughing, Kalas ducked out from under his arm, waving as he made his way to the ‘palace’ and a far less appealing engagement.

* * *

When he was finally escorted into the study, Geldoblame met him at the door. With carefully neutral faces, they exchanged greetings, after which they settled in a pair of overstuffed chairs done in green jacquard. A tea platter was already set out for them to enjoy at their leisure. Kalas wasn’t surprised that the former emperor had requested a brew of the expensive cardamom spice, but it was paired with Melodia’s favorite tea snacks.

So far, so good.

Once they had both taken a sip, he let the base rest in his cupped palms and said, {Long time, no see. How are you?}

{Oh, spare me,} Geldoblame drawled, though with less acid than usual, {You're here for a reason; out with it then.} Contrary to his opponents’ jabs at him being a ‘slob’, he dabbed his mouth frequently with a handkerchief.

{Hey, I'm not looking for trouble.} As his hand hovered between a cheese scone and a fan of brioche finger sandwiches, he continued, {You think I'd bring the Kid if I was trying to get under your skin?Don't worry, next time I'll be sure to be extra annoying.}

It seemed to put Geldoblame at ease. He motioned with his cup for Kalas to continue.

{I'm just here to deliver some mail.} In one easy motion, he drew the letters from their magnus and presented them with a flourish.

Just as before, when Melodia taunted him with the knowledge of parents’ survival, Geldoblame’s humanity was on startling display. Betrayal, or something like it, was most prominent on his face. His hands jittered around the handle of the cup. At times it seemed he was ready to shred his friends’ final words to him, only to sigh, softly brush the indents left by his nails, and continue.

Just as Kalas was rising to slip away, Geldoblame set down his current read and muttered, {You mean for me to follow in your footsteps?} He laughed, the sound small, bitter, self-loathing.

“What?”

He eyed him with distaste. {The nations have been quick to forgive you. Her Grace as well, and Giacomo is enjoying a house arrest.}

{So? You're still in power—looks like you win.}

He slammed the cup back in its saucer. A splash made it over the lip, pooling in the steep saucer. {This is victory to you?!} Suddenly on his feet, he howled, {Pandering to a mongrel's whims lest he cast you to the wolves? Pah!}

As the former emperor continued his tirade, Kalas finished his tea and bowed. Against his will, he recognized himself in his enemy. And it was too much for him. He was glad he’d brought the Kid, as her crying gave him the excuse he needed to leave without getting an earful about manners.

* * *

<Hey, dumbass!> she greeted.

<If you're trying to teach my kid bad words, the joke's on you—she already learned them all from me.>

She rolled her eyes slyly. <Oh, so now she's yours.>

“You’re never letting that go, are you?” he said, still grinning happily.

* * *

Dodging the birds running between his legs, he called, <My bad! The medic—uh, I mean apot...he...cary? —he wanted your help with some Al Fhard merchants.>

They nodded once. <I'll be right there.>

<Wait, that's it?> he asked they finished up their charm, <He made it sound like you'd say no.>

<I wouldn't refuse you.> When he failed to respond, the Al Zhani gave him a peculiar look. <Lord Kalas, it's me, Rheong.>

It took him a moment to place the name.

“It  _ has _ been awhile,” Rheong commented, tugging the last knot in place. The gloss of protective magic ran across the shrub’s bark.

...

“But that’s enough about that,” said Rheong, nodding towards Xiuh, “She takes more after you than her mother.”

He feigned ignorance.

They started to speak, exasperated, then glanced every which way. <The mother is our departed companion. Don't bother denying it.>

It wouldn’t do much if one of the merchants got impatient, but he appreciated their discretion nonetheless. <Why do you say that?>

<Blood tells,> they replied, slowly adjusting their bun, <And... Her Ladyship scattered to the seas. The child came from the seas. It makes sense, no?>

<I know you know she wasn't a real mermaid.>

They chuckled, near soundless. <Maybe not, but I know well the passing of eggs.>

Though he sighed, he couldn’t help but crack a grin at the joke.

* * *

As Kalas scanned the Cloister of Trials for an adequate hiding spot, he was reminded of his companion by a light tug on his pant leg.

<Is it the bad guys, Birdie?> she asked, the words barely more than spit bubbles.

He nodded, put a finger to his lips, and blocked an eye and ear with his other hand.  _ Stay quiet and hide. _

* * *

(<Uh, sir...,> the spice merchant protested weakly as he watched the kid scoop up a double handful of cinnamon and open wide.

Kalas was already digging through his coin purse. <Sorry about this. Keep the change.>

<You're... not going to stop her?>

Sighing, he filled a satchel of his grandpapa’s favorite spice mix. <Oh, hell no! This might be her last chance to learn not to put random shit in her mouth.>)

...

Giacomo seemed to be on the same page, for he barked, <Doctor, we'll hold the line here! You, boy, muster what troops you can!>

<Fuck you!> Kalas shouted back, quickly downing his strongest ether, <What the hell are you going to do without any weapons?! I'll stay, you and Papa take the bird back to Gramps, see if he's got any death robots lying around.>

<Don't be foolish!> Papa stomped to the forefront, jaw clenched like he was practicing for rigor mortis. <My white magic is your best chance to get away from here. Let this old man protect you boys as he should have from the start!>

From the way Fee swivelled his head and pout-glared, Kalas could imagine him insisting that  _ he _ should handle it, as he had stronger magic  _ and _ was already dead.

_ KSHHHHH! _

As one, they leapt away from the sound and flash of electricity. But it wasn’t Fish Head’s doing—the lightning erupted from his chest, and then he hit the floor. Before gravity could do its work, however, V was already flipping away on her winglets, striking the frozen cultists with pistol-whips and spinning kicks.

{Just couldn't keep your nose out, could you, rookie?} she said as she landed in their midst.


	2. Logo and Rejected Chapter Art

1\. Original Cover 2. Outdated 3. TBH I Still Like the Pulp-y Feel to This One 4. Xelha's Arm Made Me Too Sad To Continue

5\. I Changed This Chapter's Art So Many Times 6. Pre-messing With Opacity 7. Too Boring 8. To Contrast With the Previous Chapter's Art

9\. Boring and Ugly 10. Didn't Capture the Tone Right


	3. Scrapped/Concept Chapter Art

**1\. Playing with composition for the title art redo 2. Variations of the Mizuti cover (+2 of the Epilogue) 3. Concept of the most painful chapter art I did**

**1\. Five discarded designs, three of which I never bothered trying digitally! 2. Looking at all chapter art to figure out something for the epilogue 3. The only design in this row that made it into the fic ^^;;;;**

**1\. Original concept for C12 2. Figuring out the pose 3. More of the same**

The original idea was to visually represent the title ( _In Which Revelations Make Traitors of Us All_ ) by literally exposing the characters based on how many secrets they were still keeping from the party. Kalas (nude save for his winglet, as he reveals his part in everything that's happened) and Melodia (any secrets left are the ones even she is not aware of) at one end, and Xelha on the other (hidden save for an eye peeking out of Shiva's embrace). The Savyna revelations were supposed to come earlier, hence her bareness compared to Lyude, then Larikush.

When I realized that this fic was going to be much, much longer than expected, only the Kalas & Melodia reveal made sense to focus on. I kept the theme of exposure but took awhile to decide the degree to which Melodia would dominate Kalas. I ultimately went for the tango dip, as I felt it best conveyed the complexity of their partnership—equal, in a sense, but with one decidedly in charge. Kalas was certainly in on the scheme but he also got caught up in the momentum.

**1\. Photo collage of Kalas' early life, made for Kalas' unwanted fieldtrip on the Goldoba 2. Concept of C4.8 (later renamed C6 b/c of the limitations of AO3) 3. Pretty basic chessboard setup. Mostly didn't go for it because I'm so shit at perspective**

**1\. Concept for C4.5/C5 2. Concepts for the Wazn chapter (+Imperial Fortress) 3. More Wazn concepts**

**1\. Epilogue concepts (1st meant to match the original logo) 2. One of these even made it into the fic**

**1\. I'm just too proud of how Kay turned out not to show what's hiding behind Mizuti 2. Meant to be a mosaic (as referenced by Xelha when meeting Lyude) of a Godcraft vs Malpercio (a zombie amalgamation of the siblings)**

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Lastly, for awhile I planned to do end art as well, depicting actual scenes from the chapter. I ended up... not... doing that, but here they are:


	4. Maps and Architecture

**Earth (Pre-Descent)**

**World Map (Epilogue)**

**Earth Child Regions**

**Savyna and Lolo's House**

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**House Lyuvann Atrium (and Xelha in desert gear)**

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**Home/Tarazed**

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**Kaffaljidhma Fountain From the Epilogue**

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**Miran Airspace**

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	5. Winglet Designs, Masks, and Wanted Posters

I really made more of these than I actually needed to ^^;;;

The 5th was based on an idea I had about the Sacred Treasures and incorporating them into character designs... but I was ehhh on it by the time I reached this part of writing.

**1\. Jungle Veneer 2. Shiva's Guidance 3. Bespoke Sylph 4. Gear-Winged Darkness 5. Sacred Treasures**

****

**I think Kalas' was the only one I changed? Because I remembered he had a mask in some of the concept art, so I used that instead.**

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**Because it wouldn't be Bamco without 'em.**

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	6. Aeons

**1\. Pixie (Scrapped) 2. Pixie (Front) 3. Pixie (Back)**

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**1\. Ifrit & Leviathan (Original) 2. Ifrit 3. Leviathan 4. Anima**

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**1\. Che 2. He, Unused Al Fhard Robes for Kalas?, ???, Bo (don't think I used this design?)**

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**1\. Valefor 2. Sin**

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**Alas, I lost the Ultima design T.T**


	7. Side Characters and Main Party

**1\. Tik & Wacho 2. Tik & Wacho (Colored) 3. Odette, Rheong, Sirius 4. Kahn's Wedding Outfit, Gib's Crown**

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**1\. Melodia (Standard) 2. "Guillo" (Standard), Savyna (Scrapped) 3. Xelha (Standard), Moogle, Chocobo (Scrapped), Savyna (Standard)**

Melodia's outfit is mostly self-explanatory—ethereal and constantly shifting in form, just like her homeland. I wanted her to use shields for a couple reasons, the main one being that they seemed the easiest way to get the girl some stained glass. I also wanted to tap into people's tendency to see them as a secondary weapon at best, exclusively defensive at worst.

"Guillo's" clothes were partially inspired by FFVII, mostly the pauldron. It seemed to fit.

Having Savyna be one-armed probably seems to come out of nowhere, but it's actually me being nostalgic for FFX. When I originally saw Auron, I thought he'd lost a forearm (then that he'd lost the ability to use it) and was... kinda disappointed that he just wore his clothes that way? So yeah, over a decade later I set out to give myself the stoic, one-armed badass I'd been so hyped for.

**** ****

**1\. Mizuti (Broken Mask) 2. Mizuti (Epilogue), Mizuti (Epilogue, Scrapped)**

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**1\. Lyude (Emperor) 2. Lyude (Post-Reveal) 3. Savyna & Lyude (Bid For Power) 4. Savyna & Lyude (Bid For Power Colored)**

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**1\. Melodia (Epilogue) 2. Melodia (Post-Reveal) 3. Kalas (Angel of Darkness)**

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**1\. Kalas (Dress Up For Geldo, scrapped for looking like a Wizard of Oz extra) 2. Kalas (Angel of Darkness, Scrapped), Kalas (Amalgam, more-or-less as written)**

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**1\. Xelha & Melodia (Holoholo) 2. Lyude (Emperor, Scrapped) 3. Xiuh, Kalas (Epilogue, various)**

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**Xelha (Queen), Kalas (Summoner of Wazn), Lyude (Emperor, Scrapped), Ayme (Epilogue, Scrapped), Folon (Epilogue, Scrapped?)**

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End file.
